


quid pro quo

by captainharkness



Category: Castle
Genre: Christmas, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Miscommunication, Mistaken Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 11:57:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5665276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainharkness/pseuds/captainharkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Rysposito 2015 Secret Santa prompt: Espo meets Ryan as a witness and tries to ask him out. Fluffy and humour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	quid pro quo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lilablassblau](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilablassblau/gifts).



> Okay, so I made the deadline by the skin of my teeth, but I'm here. I hope everyone had a good holidays and a happy new year!

 

It was a running joke in the station that Ryan had no tolerance for the cold for an irishman. The second Fall hit, he was bundled under three layers of jumpers and fleeces and scarfs, thick gloves and a beany hat. By the first day of December, he’d resigned himself to ruddy cheeks, constant congestion, and an extremely painful gas bill.

Christmas time was always dampened slightly by the arrival of his annual bout of flu, not that he found it particularly enjoyable anyway. In true Irish Catholic tradition, his family was  _ enormous _ , filled with children who were far too loud for one of his only days off in the year and aunts and uncles who still pinched his cheek and asked when he’d bring a ‘nice girl’ around for them to meet.

So, maybe, he  _ had _ offered to work Christmas Eve to get out of the freezing cold roadtrip to Maine, but had he realised that it would include hauling a man twice his size through a foot of snow back to the station, he might have endured it.

Even his Aunt Neve was less persistently annoying than whoever he had in cuffs.

“So, how come you got sucked into working tonight?” the man -  _ Jakey _ , according to the guy in interrogation,  _ Just ask Jakey, he knows about that stuff _ , he’d said - asked casually as they stepped in the elevator, “Ain’t got a life outside work or just can’t say no to your boss?”

Stuck for an answer that wouldn’t incite more teasing, Ryan grunted out, “Shut up”.

There was a chuckle from in front of him, “Na, it’s rough, Irish. Poor thing, got ya’ running round after assholes like me in this weather. Sounds like you should be in front of a fire with a glass of hot milk.” It was at that opportune moment that Ryan was overcome with a fit of sneezing, which only made Jakey laugh harder, “Jesus, kid, take some fucking NyQuil. Hey, I better not get sick sharing this elevator with your infected-”

“You alright there, Ryan?” one of the officers on duty asked as the elevator door opened.

He grit his teeth, nodding, “Yeah, always gotta be one, doesn’t there?”

He shoved the witness out into the corridor, towards the interrogation room, ignoring the odd looks everyone else in the precinct was giving them. Ryan was small for a detective, and he probably looked a sight hauling the much taller man around, but he thought that everyone in narcotics had long since ran out of jokes. There had been one particularly cruel Summer in which a new street drug nicknamed  _ Lucky Charms _ had given him more grief than he could deal with, but the short-arse comments had been thin on the ground since then.

Shaking his head, he sat his witness down in the chair and uncuffed him, “You know, for the record, you wouldn’t have had to share an elevator with me if you didn’t make me run around in the snow. I just needed to ask you a few questions.”

The other man gave him a winning smile, “Hell, you see anything out of those puffed up eyes? If I stuck around for every pretty guy who wanted to speak, I’d never get any work done. Gotta play hard to get.”

It took a few seconds for the sentence to translate in his head, and he could only blink stupidly while it did, which only seemed to amuse the witness even more.

“Shorted out your circuits, did I?” he grinned, “Sorry, sweetheart, ask away.”

“Right,” Ryan said, swallowing, trying to remember what he was supposed to be asking, “You heard of the Avalos brothers?”

Jakey spread his hands, “Who hasn’t?”

“You know what they do?”

“Sure, they donate to charity and help old women cross the street,” he said, rolling his eyes, “Everyone knows what they do, they’re dealers. Why you asking me?”

Ryan collected some of the files he’d had on him on the Avalos brothers; two guys running a drug ring out of Brooklyn, mostly acid and ecstasy. He pulled out an evidence picture, laying it on the table, “We found this on a guy we brought in last week.”

A moment of silence passed before the witness spoke again, “Yeah, I ain’t a cop but I’m pretty sure that’s drugs.”

“Well done, you passed,” Ryan sighed, pulling out the mugshot of the guy who had been caught with it, “It’s his drugs. Says he’s moving it for a guy, doesn’t know who.”

“Seems like a bad business choice but okay.”

“I agree. He does say, however, that he knows you’re in with ‘guy’. Reckons that you could give me a name.”

Jakey laughed softly, leaning forwards over the table, “I’ll make you a deal, Irish.”

Ryan bit back the retort because generally, when a witness offered a deal, it involved getting out of doing something much worse for very little in return. 

“Make it good, I’m in a bit of a mood tonight, pal.”

A wide smile spread out over his face, “I’ll give you a name if you let me take you out for a drink.”

Ryan’s mind went blank for a few seconds, half because he was caught completely unawares, and half because it was a genuinely tempting offer. His captain would surely kill him, but the dark eyes that stared at him across the table were doing a very good job of convincing him it’d be worth it. He stumbled over half words for a moment before regaining his composure with a sharp laugh. 

“You give me something to solve this, I’ll take you to dinner myself,” he retorted smartly. The other man laughed loudly, leaning back in his seat.

“Nice one, Irish,” he said standing up, “You want a name? You’ll find one in my front left pocket,” He slowly put both hands on his head, “I presume you don’t want me reaching in there myself?”

It was proving horribly difficult for Ryan to keep a straight face; part of him wanted to laugh, because only he could get saddled with this annoying jackass on Christmas Eve, and part of him wanted to slam his head off the table because he was completely defenceless against an easy smile and quick banter. He was already ill and vulnerable, anyway.

Groaning inwardly, Ryan got to his feet. Whoever the witness was - it only just dawned on him that he hadn’t even bothered to get a name; he was getting sloppy - he was trying to keep a lid on his laugh and failing, lips tight together in a way that made Ryan want, more than anything, to not have to be within at least three feet of him. 

Rolling his eyes, mostly to avoid eye contact, Ryan put in his hand in the other man’s pocket, and fondly it mostly empty, save for a half empty packet of chewing gum and a hunk of metal, warmed by body heat even in the cold. Curiously, he pulled it out, and found a detective’s badge in his hand. 

“You want a name?” the witness repeated, voice startling loud given the proximity, making Ryan jump slightly, “Detective Javier Esposito, 12th precinct. Homicide.”

Ryan licked his lips, staring at the badge, “You’re an undercover cop.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Esposito admonished. When Ryan looked up, eyebrow cocked, he rolled his eyes, “Like I’m the only one here who doesn’t have a life outside work. Say, can I put my hands down?”

Ryan inhaled deeply, putting the badge down on the table, before looking up at saying bluntly, “No.”

**_~.~.~.~_ **

He’d left Esposito in the interrogation room while he explained to his captain how he managed to arrest an undercover detective. It wasn’t entirely unheard of, but given that it was two hours until Christmas and everyone was mostly tired and irritable, it didn’t go over so smoothly. One phonecall to Captain Montgomery of the 12th gave them all the facts. 

Javier Esposito had been sent in to try and gather some information on a gang related shooting from the day before, something to do with the Avalos brothers moving in on someone else’s territory. He was only supposed to be snooping around, barely a full mission, and it was only for one night. That, and the fact that admin during the holidays was notoriously slow, meant that Ryan’s precinct hadn’t gotten the message there was a cop around their investigation.

By the time the correct paperwork had been filed and apologies made, Ryan only had another ten minutes left of his shift. His captain took one look at him after his latest sneezing fit and told him to go home.

Bracing himself for the cold, Ryan pushed the door open and stepped on to the street. He barely made it three steps before someone was calling his name. He turned around to find a familiar face smiling at him, the kind of smile that his sister used to give him whenever she’d pulled a prank that he hadn’t discovered yet.

“Hey, man,” Esposito said, catching up to him, “One of the cops said you’d be finished around now.”

Ryan was half tempted to roll his eyes but restrained himself, “Oh, yeah? Why are you waiting around outside then?”

“Said I’d take you for a drink, didn’t I?”

He hesitated; technically, as he wasn’t really a witness, there wasn’t anything that said he  _ couldn’t _ go for a drink with a fellow detective, and he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t sorely tempted - again, the wide, genuine if slightly teasing smile and honest-to-God twinkle in his eyes wasn’t helping - but he was more than a bit bitter about being made a fool of.

“Who says I even want to go for a drink with you?”

Esposito snorted, “That seven second pause between my offer and your answer.”

“I was thinking.”

“Thinking of an excuse not to go?”

Ryan grit his teeth, “No-”

“C’mon,” Esposito whined, “It’s Christmas Eve. What are you gonna do if you go home? Watch crap TV?”

_ Yes _ . “No.”

“Just one drink,” he promised, “Just one, then you can go home and watch all the shitty Christmas movies to your delight.”

It took a few seconds for him to swallow his pride - and his nerves - and nod, “Fine, just one.”

**_~.~.~.~_ **

One drink turned into two, and into three, and then several more, and midnight passed before either of them noticed. Ryan was distantly aware of the few staff still working at such an hour - New York never slept, not even over the holidays - sniggering in the corner as the two of them got progressively more and more drunk, the few other patrons still sat at the bar joining in with the amusement. By 2am, they were the only two left, and the long-suffering staff were cleaning around them, but to their credit, with relatively little irritation. Esposito had outed them as cops when the cheery looking woman behind the bar had asked what they were doing out on Christmas Eve, so they’d earned a little leeway.

“No, but really,” Ryan insisted, gesturing with his drink, “I am sorry I crashed your op.”

Esposito let out a laugh that was more a giggle than anything else, “Hey, no worries, man. Who buys drugs at Christmas anyway?”

Ryan thought that drug crimes actually went up during the holidays but chose not to comment, “Probably too cold anyway.”

“Exactly,” Esposito agreed, pointing with his own drink, “Who wants to walk out in this fucking weather just to score some E?”

One of the waiters shot them an odd look from his spot cleaning the table next to them, and Esposito grimaced, “Sorry, pal.”

“We should probably get a move on anyway,” Ryan muttered, and Esposito nodded.

Esposito downed the last of his drink, and Ryan was momentarily lost in the way his throat moved around the liquid, before he blinked his eyes clear and looked away. The only lights on were the ones behind the bar and a few others dotted around, and the bulbs clearly hadn’t been changed in a while because the whole room was bathed in a soft orange glow. All the shadows that were cast over Esposito’s face seemed darker, the sharp line of his jaw clearer in the contrast.

Ryan nearly let his head fall onto the table.

They said their goodbyes, both leaving a generous tip to the people still working, wishing them all a merry christmas and set off out into the cold again. The snow was no less crunchy beneath their feet, and the air certainly wasn’t any warmer, but somehow, when he wasn’t desperately trying to catch up to someone in the last hours of his shift, it didn’t seem so bad. 

There was still people out, random couples dawdling along the streets, a few groups of twenty-somethings stumbling out of bars, similar to the one they just left. New York was infamously unfriendly, but everyone wished them a happy holidays as they went by.

Ryan and Esposito walked side by side back to Esposito’s apartment. Ryan wasn’t afraid to admit that he was slightly past tipsy by that point, which was absolutely his excuse for constantly swaying and bumping into the other man, like a couple of teenagers on a date. He was also fairly certain that they’d gone the most scenic route ever, short of crossing state lines, to make it to Esposito’s place, not that he was complaining. 

He asked why his undercover name was ‘Jakey’, and it turned out that one of the rookie cops had lost her glasses one day and misread Esposito’s ID badge, and the name had stuck. It was completely ridiculous and in terms of cute anecdotes to bring up, was as cliché as they came, but it still made Ryan laugh. They both grinned as they explained how they ended up working the evening shift on Christmas eve, both of them avoiding awkward family encounters. 

In the space of thirty minutes, Ryan found out that Esposito had no siblings and an absent father, was raised Catholic but didn’t practice, used to be in the Special Forces and loved shark documentaries. He divulged his love of sports cars, gesticulating wildly as they walked past an electronics store with a window filled with TVs, all playing an F1 race. Esposito came from a Mexican family but he loved Thai food, and his favourite thing to do at work was annoying his partner, a woman called Kate. And, even though he didn’t mention it, Ryan could tell from the way his face lit up that he loved being a cop, and he really did  _ love  _ shark week.

Ryan was scrabbling for reasons to carry on talking as they drew nearer to the other detective’s apartment, but it was late, and it was cold, and he was tired. Listening to the other man talk endlessly and happily about himself in a way most people were too self-conscious to do had lulled him into a strange sense of security, contentment washing over him in warm waves, but not warm enough. Like some B-rate teen movie, Esposito turned on his heel at the bottom of the stairs leading up to his apartment, his hands shoved in his pockets.

“Kevin,” he said sweetly, mock adoration all over his face, “I had such a wonderful time tonight.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, “Yeah, it was fantastic,” He remembered their earlier conversation, chuckling, “You paid your end twice over.”

Esposito blinked blankly at him, making him laugh even harder. 

“Our bet?” he prompted, “That was definitely more than one drink.”

It took a few seconds for it to sink in, but Esposito smiled widely, eyes sparkling under the streetlamp, “What can I say? I like to make a good impression. You owe me dinner, then.”

“I thought I only owed you dinner if we solved the case,” Ryan reminded him, his own face starting to ache with the width of his grin, which was equal measures sappy and endearing, “It’s still unsolved, or I would.” he shrugged helplessly.

Shaking his head, Esposito fished something out of his pocket, handing it to Ryan - it was a card, with a phone number written on it, “Shoot me a text when you get home, okay? Don’t want you freezing to death at Christmas.”

Ryan gave him a salute, pocketing the card, but Esposito carried on, “And call me when you solve that case, eh? I’ll cash in that deal we made.”

There was five inches of snow on the floor and Ryan could barely feel his toes, but something warm settled in his stomach at Esposito’s smile.

“Will do,” he nodded, ducking his head, “Merry Christmas, Javier.”

Esposito pushed the door open, still grinning, “Merry Christmas, Kevin.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a kind of pre-canon oneshot, where this is actually how the two of them met. Obviously, Ryan transferred over to the 12th last of him, Espo and Kate, so this is way before season one. It can also be read as an AU of sorts, it's really up to you!


End file.
